


like a football match

by carrow



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2409767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrow/pseuds/carrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loving Marco is like playing football</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a football match

**Author's Note:**

> Late night plot bunny; that's all.  
> Loosely inspired by this quote:
> 
> "After you I don't know what I believe in  
> After you, hell should be easy  
> After you I don't know what I believe in  
> After you, hell will be easier"

_Young. Young. Young._ Erik has lost count of how many people have told him how amazing it is for someone so young achieve what he has achieved; how much of a young, promising talent he is; how he still has so much to experience yet because he’s _still  so young_.

Every time he hears the word, Erik wants to scream. He doesn’t feel young, at least not anymore.He looks at himself in the mirror and doesn’t see young, he sees an unending collection of regrets weighing him down.

He used to feel young (it feels like a hundred years ago and he barely believes it was just a year or so), full of hopes and dreams and so sure of his bright future because _how could he not?_ when everyone assured him of how lucky and special he is, all the time.

Then Marco Reus happened.

Marco with his half-smiles and knowing glances, running his tongue over his bottom lip, making inappropriate jokes and taking satisfaction in seeing Erik blush like the inexperienced teenager he still felt like. Marco with his furtive touches and dirty, _dirty_ words whispered when no one else was paying attention.

And how could Erik not fall for him when Marco was everything he wanted to be? How does one not fall in love with their idea of perfection?

(As Erik now knows, the answer is: you don’t)

Erik thinks he may have read in some book that falling in love is like falling asleep and he couldn’t disagree more. Falling in love with Marco is nothing like that. It feels, unsurprisingly, like a football match. It’s just as unpredictable, frustrating and full of ups and downs. Most of all; it feels like a game.

The difference is that Erik understands football. He can look at a pitch and know what he needs to do to win a game; he may not always be able to do it, but at least he knows what he’s doing wrong. With Marco, though, he can never know.

Some days it feels like winning; days when they spend hours playing video games, laughing at nothing in particular, lazing around in pajama pants and drinking Monster with Coke until they feel sick and tired but can’t fall asleep, instead they make out until they can barely move anymore.

But those are the rare days, the exceptions.

Most days it feels like he’s losing; losing Marco, losing himself, losing whatever it is they have. _If_ they even have anything.

But it’s in Erik’s nature to keep trying, so he tries. Even when Marco acts like Erik is just the new kid around, when he practically screams at the whole locker room about this _crazy chick I met last night_ , when he pretends he didn’t go a whole week without barely talking to Erik before showing up at his door with a complacent smile.

Erik tells himself that they’re young; they are allowed to make mistakes, over and over again. He wants more than anything to believe it.

Except that Erik may be young, but he isn’t as naïve as he looks. He wants Marco. He wants Marco to want him. And Erik knows that part of it is because he wants to be like Marco, more than just being with him, but different than what people tell him: Erik can’t have everything he wants.

Growing up playing football taught Erik that doesn’t matter how much effort you put into something or how hard you try; sometimes you just can’t change the score. Maybe your opponent is stronger, maybe you just weren’t good enough.

So he walks away, like he does after the whistle sounds.

When the phone rings, Erik tells himself he’s young and he can do it; one more mistake, how much could it hurt?! It’s not the end of the world.

When it rings again, he thinks about all the previous mistakes and how much it did hurt.

It rings a third time. And a fourth. Maybe a seventh, but Erik has stopped listening by then.

Loving Marco is like playing football and Erik knows when a match is lost. He knows there’s no reason to try and kick a ball at the net after the whistle blew, even if he wants to. He learned that much.

He’s still young – even if he doesn’t feel like it anymore – and there are so many matches to be played and to be won. Still, Erik knows every single one will start with the fear of losing again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this: thank you and i'm (kinda) sorry.  
> Comments and criticism is always welcomed. :)


End file.
